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Handled Internally — Description

“Just… give me a second,” the maid in pink whispered, easing out of the latest bedroom with another pair of frilly panties dangling from her fingers. She pressed a trembling hand flat against the front of her skirt, breathing shallowly. “This thing is driving me crazy.”
“Keep it together,” the maid in black hissed back, though her own fingers kept brushing the ruffled edge of her apron, smoothing it down again and again as if it might help. She shifted her weight, thighs brushing together under the short black skirt. “A few more rooms and we’ll have more than anyone else.”
The pink maid risked a quick glance at her partner - black ruffles over white petticoat, stockings sheer and perfect - and immediately looked away, cheeks warming. “We look… beyond ridiculous,” she muttered. “And going through drawer after drawer of these -” She lifted the panties higher, then let them drop into the cart with the rest. “It’s not helping.”
“I told you the suits were a bad idea,” the black maid snapped, though her tone wavered as her gaze flicked down to the pastel explosion of pink satin and lace opposite her - then quickly back to the wall. “No one’s even seen us yet. We could’ve done this in normal clothes.”
It had started as a joke. A tradition.
The fraternity’s initiation challenge was simple enough: a panty raid on the sororities. Most underwear stolen, fastest return, no getting caught. Only a handful of freshmen with the best haul would make the cut.
Mike and Jerry had teamed up immediately.
Sneaking in the old-fashioned way meant getting spotted, chased, or worse. But sorority houses already relied on android maids. They moved through the halls at all hours. No one questioned them. No one looked twice.
So Mike had pitched the disguise.
They pooled their money and bought the cheapest wearable android maid suits they could find - basic models where the ‘Access Denied’ chastity belts were molded permanently into the suit, unlike the pricier variants.
The belts were annoying. Restrictive. A constant reminder of corners cut.
Still, they figured it wouldn’t matter. They wouldn’t be wearing them for long anyway.
They slipped inside cleanly. Room to room. Drawer to drawer. Panties vanished into sleeves, under aprons - until they spotted a laundry cart left unattended in the hallway.
After that, it got easier.
Too easy.
The cart filled quickly as they worked their way down the hall, confidence growing with every stop.
Too fast.
“At the very least,” Jerry muttered, tugging at the ruffles, “we should’ve bought the ones with removable belts.”
“They cost twice as much,” Mike shot back, smoothing his hands down his pink skirt in a way that did nothing to ease the pressure beneath it.
“Well, look at us now,” Jerry snapped. “Barely halfway done and I can’t even think straight.”
“Lower your voice,” Mike hissed. “You want someone to -”
“Boys… boys,” a voice said behind them. “Is there a reason you’re having a domestic dispute in the middle of the hallway?”
They spun around.
A senior girl stood a few paces back, navy blazer neat, pencil skirt immaculate. A coffee cup rested in her hand. She took a slow sip, eyes moving over them - pink ruffles, black-and-white frills, the overfilled laundry cart between them.
“We’re so dead,” Jerry whispered, hands frozen at his sides.
“You wouldn’t shut up,” Mike hissed back.
“Relax,” the girl said lightly. “You’re not being reported.”
Both of them exhaled shakily, shoulders relaxing.
“We handle our problems internally,” she added, gaze sharpening as it returned to the cart. “Follow me.”
They did.
Down a quiet hallway. Into a small service office. The door closed behind them.
She set two collars on the desk. “Put them on, boys.”
Jerry barely slowed. He picked one up and clipped it around his neck as if it were just another part of the uniform.
Mike stared at the second.
“You don’t want the dean involved,” she said, already checking her tablet.
Mike swallowed. He glanced at Jerry - already collared - then lifted the second band and snapped it closed.
Her fingers moved once across the screen.
The collars tightened slightly - warm, precise, impossible to ignore.
“Good,” she said. “Now listen, girls -”
Mike’s stomach dropped at the word.
“This is how it works,” she continued calmly. “A day of service for every pair you took.”
Jerry frowned. “That’s ridiculous - you can’t -”
“Shut up,” Mike hissed.
Without looking at either of them, she lifted a hand. “Quiet,” she said mildly, tapping the tablet once.
“Now,” she went on, seamlessly resuming, “a week of service for every pair you took.”
Jerry’s mouth opened again.
The collar at his throat buzzed - soft, precise.
The word never came out.
“You aren’t the first,” she said, unbothered. “All of our maids are boys underneath. Some volunteer.”
A brief, knowing smile. “They tend to enjoy the structure.”
Her gaze dipped to their skirts. “Others need encouragement.”
“And don’t worry about your studies - we value education here. You’ll still attend all your classes.”
Mike felt a flicker of relief, quickly extinguished.
“We’ll provide suitable campus attire,” she continued. “Blouses and skirts appropriate for a lecture hall rather than a pantry. Every time you pass a woman on campus, you will address her as ‘Miss.’ Every time a female classmate speaks to you, you will offer a respectful curtsy. If you forget…”
She smiled faintly. “The collar will remind you.”
“Lift your skirts.”
They did - immediately, automatically - hands moving before either could think better of it.
“Oh… no panties?” Her brows rose, eyes lingering on the exposed belts. Then she laughed softly. “Clever. You tossed the panties that came with the suits into the cart to pad your count.”
She shook her head, smile sharpening. “A pair is a pair, girls. They still count.”
Her gaze dipped to the belts again. “Cheap models.” A small shrug. “Unlucky. Our best maids earn unlocks.”
Jerry shot Mike a sharp look, fury flashing across his face.
She tilted her head, noticing. “But not with those.” A faint smile. “You’re stuck like that.”
Her attention returned to the tablet, thumb hovering. “Poor performance has consequences. We raise the guidance a little for maids who misbehave - nothing drastic. Just enough to smooth out the rough edges.”
Her eyes met theirs. “Some even start finding the frat boys… agreeable. Offering help with homework. Late-night study sessions. All very voluntary, of course.”
She let the silence stretch, then smiled. “Let’s hope you two turn out to be our best maids.”
She stepped back and opened the door. “First task: return every pair you took. Apologize. Offer hand-wash service.”
“And you,” she said, eyes lingering on the maid in black. “Knees together. It’s only polite for a girl in your position.”
Jerry tried to speak - some last protest, some final argument - but the collar gave a soft, corrective buzz, cutting the thought short. He grimaced, fingers tightening on the cart handle.
“This is your fault,” he muttered anyway, voice carefully measured.
Mike shot him a look, pink ruffles swaying as he fell into step beside him. “My fault? You’re the one who wouldn’t stop talking.”
Another faint hum. Both of them flinched.
Neither finished the sentence.
The cart rolled forward between them, their steps falling into an unwilling rhythm as they disappeared down the hall - still bristling, still glaring, still learning exactly how quiet they were expected to be.
- Inspired by Michal1970 's android maid captions